Back To December
by Caitylin
Summary: Yet another Taylor Swift inspired Klaine one-shot. Rated M for language only "'Cause the last time you saw me is still burned in the back of your mind. You gave me roses and I left them there to die. So this is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night. And I go back to December all the time."


**Word Count:** 5,688  
**Spoilers:** 4x04  
**Disclaimer:** The song, _Back To December_, belongs to Taylor Swift. The characters belong to Glee, to RIB, to Fox. And the written word belongs to you, dear reader.  
**A/N:** Firstly, I have an obsession with Taylor Swift songs and connecting them to Kurt & Blaine. Secondly, ever since the spoilers for 4x04 were released I've developed, shall we say, an obsession with the idea of them breaking up and getting back together again, and I really just wanted to post this before the episode airs.  
To my dear readers of INSPS, I promise another chapter is coming; I only have 906 words written but I promise I'm working on it.

* * *

_Dear Blaine,_  
Kurt writes, pen poised above the paper, waiting for the words to come to him. But they don't come, not easily at least, and that's the problem. He has so much he wants to say, needs to say; so much that he needs Blaine to hear, yet when he has the opportunity to speak, no words come to him.

* * *

He'd come home for the Thanksgiving holidays to see his family, needing to see them after so long apart. Being in New York is different to how he expected it to be, different from what he's used to. It had always been his father and him, for as long as he could remember, _Nobody pushes the Hummels around_; and then Carol and Finn had joined and Kurt had adjusted to what it felt like to have a bigger family again, had grown to love having such a family. And it's not that he doesn't _have_ a family now that he's in New York, but more that he rarely gets to see them. And so he always makes the most of holidays, coming down to visit them every chance he gets. It grounds him to be around them.

Except, it was different this time.

* * *

Kurt can almost, though just barely, understand his father's inability to remember to buy a turkey for Thanksgiving; but what he can't understand is how Carol somehow managed to forget. Which is why he's now wandering the aisles of the grocery store, attempting to find a turkey and, if he's lucky, some cranberry sauce to go with it, the week before Thanksgiving.

When, peering through the shelves absentmindedly, he spots a gelled head of curls, his heart seems to freeze. He stops walking, breath catching in his throat, as he ducks down and peeks more intently through the shelves and into the aisle opposite until he can see the face of the be-gelled person. Until, sure enough, he can see Blaine.

He hasn't seen him in forever, can't remember the last time he saw Blaine, it's been that long. Well actually, that's a lie. He remembers the last time vividly, if unpleasantly.

Kurt has three choices, he figures.  
1) Continue shopping and hope he doesn't run into Blaine;  
2) Continue shopping and if he does run into Blaine, cross that bridge when he comes to it; and  
3) Run for the hills.

He doesn't know how long he stands there, waiting for his heart to kick back into gear and waiting for his mind to make a decision, when suddenly Blaine is walking around the corner of the next aisle and into the one Kurt's frozen solid in. There's a bored expression on his face as he idly pushes the shopping cart along, clearly not wanting to be there any more than the other pre-Thanksgiving Day shoppers.

Kurt can tell the very moment Blaine realises it's him. His jaw slackens until his mouth is open just barely, his eyes zero in on Kurt and then seem to defocus, his feet stop their ambling as he comes to a complete stop and just stares. Kurt wonders if melting into the floor is an acceptable fourth option.

Kurt licks his lips and tries to speak; instead his voice makes a pitiful croaking sound as his mouth gapes. Blaine seems to steel himself, plastering a friendly look on his face as he steps forward to talk to Kurt; being ever the gentleman he could never ignore a friend.

"Kurt," he smiles and it's almost as if nothing has changed. Almost. But Kurt can see the hurt behind his eyes, knows this boy too well to not see it. "How are you?"

He nods his head in response, drags some words out of his throat, "Fine. And…and you?" It shouldn't be this hard to talk to Blaine, not when they were so close before.

"Fine," he echoes, still with that smile painted on. "I, er, didn't expect to see you here…?" The sentence trails off like a question and Kurt knows he needs to explain.

"Ummm, holidays." He gestures around the supermarket, "Thanksgiving." Blaine nods his head in understanding. "NYADA lets us go early. I'm visiting my dad."

"New York," the words are barely there, as if Blaine can't bear to say them. "How is it?"

"It's…" He shrugs one shoulder with half a smile. New York is amazing, but right now in this moment he can't bring himself to tell Blaine that. Blaine nods his head once more, seeming to know the words Kurt has left out. "I should," Kurt bites down on his lip, "let you go." The pained expression returns in full force behind Blaine's eyes. "So you can continue your shopping," Kurt rushes to clarify.

"I'll see you around…?" Again, it sounds like a question, though Kurt's not sure how to answer.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Blaine."

He nods his head a final time, "Happy Thanksgiving, Kurt," their eyes lock just briefly before Blaine lowers his head, the smile falling from his face, and continues pushing his trolley away down the aisle.

Kurt closes his eyes, sucks in a deep breath. "Coffee!" He almost shouts the word, spinning on his heel to face Blaine who similarly turns around. "Would you… Can we get coffee some time? While I'm down here. Would you want to?"

Blaine smiles again, softer this time but more real. "Sure, I'll text you."

"Oh, I…" Kurt falters, hands gesticulating in front of him as if that will somehow help him to explain, "I got a new number." And that's something Blaine didn't know. Kurt's hands drop to his sides.

"W-when?"

"Umm, around Christmas…last year…"

Blaine's eyes turn downcast, "I thought you were…" he mutters to himself, brows drawn together.

"This is my new number, if you still want to have coffee?" He asks, more unsure now than he was before. Blaine lifts his head and nods emphatically.

Kurt stretches his left hand out, taking Blaine's hand in his. It's the first time he's touched him in almost a year, and if he thought it was difficult to see Blaine and talk to Blaine, it's nothing compared to touching him again; even with Winter knocking on their doorsteps Blaine seems to radiate heat. He pulls the pen he'd been using for his shopping list out from behind his ear, uncaps it with his teeth, flips Blaine's palm over and jots his number down. "There," he whispers more to himself than to Blaine, still holding onto his hand, thumb gently caressing the skin.

"Kurt?" Kurt looks up, and now it's his turn to nod mutely in response. "I'll text you." He releases Blaine's hand quickly and instantly misses his warmth, misses the way their fingers used to slot together so easily.

* * *

_I'm sorry_,  
He writes.

* * *

Coffee with Blaine is no less awkward than running into him at the supermarket was.

Kurt arrives early and waits until he sees Blaine's car pull up, breathing a sigh of relief that he _actually_ turned up at all. Blaine jumps out of the driver's side, wrapping a long scarf about his neck. Kurt rushes over to him to say hello, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat, wondering if hugging Blaine would be completely inappropriate. They don't hug.

They step inside, Blaine holding the door of the Lima Bean open for him, and Kurt's not entirely sure why he suggested they come here when it brings back so many memories of high school. They join the queue, unconsciously huddling together. "It's so windy out there," Kurt comments.

"Yeah, it is."

When it's their turn to order, Kurt steps up, knowing this is something he can do, a way to show Blaine that he hasn't forgotten him, despite the year of not talking.

"Can I get a Grande Non-Fat Mocha and a Medium Drip?" He asks, thankful that it's November rather than early February so at least he doesn't have to stare at any stupid Cupid Cookies and stuffed Puppy-Love teddies.

"Oh, actually…I drink something different these days."

"You changed your coffee order?" Kurt's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He never expected that to happen; coffee is sacred.

"Yeah," he turns to the barista, "Can I get a Soy Chai Latte instead of the Medium Drip?" Kurt wonders at what point Blaine conceded to trying Soy milk like he had always urged him to.

The barista takes their order and then shuffles them along to the pick-up counter. They grab their coffees, Blaine shaking some cinnamon onto the top of his. "Still using cinnamon, then?"

"Some things never change." Blaine replies. The words feel like a kick to his gut and Kurt wonders if getting coffee was a good idea after all.

They move away from the counter to find somewhere to sit, both of their eyes immediately flicking to their usual table, before unanimously and silently agreeing to grab a table further down the back.

They grab their seats, Kurt removing the lid of his coffee and stirring it for no real purpose. Blaine spins his mug in slow circles on the table with his hands.

"I can't wait for summer." Kurt gushes, eyeing off the leaves being kicked up by the wind outside.

"Same. I hate winter."

"Me too." Their eyes meet across the table. "It's absolutely terrible for your-"

"-Skin. Yeah." He nods his head, Kurt smiles gently in response.

"How are you, Blaine? How's life? How's your family?" He takes a breath, "It's been a while."

"Yeah, they're all good. Mom's happy, dad's…well dad's dad," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Cooper's awesome; he just got picked up for a new TV series."

"Oh, anything I would've heard of?"

"Probably not, they're keeping it pretty close-wrapped."

Kurt nods his head, stirs his coffee once more before taking a sip. "But how are you?"

He takes a while to answer, "Surviving." His eyes focused on the mug keeping his hands warm, "I've been really busy lately. Oh," He looks up, smiling, "I graduated."

"Yeah?" Kurt asks with a grin of his own. "I bet you passed with flying colors."

Blaine goes bashful, staring at his coffee again. It's only then that Kurt realizes just how much he's missed seeing something as simple as Blaine blushing. "Well…you know me."

"Yeah, I do." The smile drops from Kurt's lips as soon as he says the words, remembering Blaine's new coffee order and wondering how much else has changed since he last saw him. Wondering if he can still claim to truly know Blaine anymore. "So, you said you've been busy…?" He tries to urge the conversation along, unsure of when it became so difficult to talk to Blaine, though to be honest he's got a pretty good idea of when.

"Yeah, I've been doing heaps of performances; holiday season's coming up, lots of Christmas carols. Working part-time, applying for colleges, that kind of stuff."

"Colleges?" Blaine dips his head in affirmation before drinking from his mug. "Shouldn't you already have applied? It's November, Blaine."

"I ummm," he lowers the mug, "I took some time off. So many of my plans were set for New York, and then I just…wasn't sure that's where I wanted to go anymore. So I took time off, like I said, and decided to reapply for second semester."

The conversation skirts so close to the topic they're both trying to avoid. Kurt quickly begins discussing the horrendous dance teacher Rachel has, filling the silence that seems to envelope them at the mention of the plans they'd made together back in school. It's an easier subject to discuss.

* * *

_I miss you,_  
Kurt writes.

* * *

Blaine passes the roses to Kurt, orange, yellow, pink, two red ones, presses a gentle but sweet kiss to his cheek. He always chooses his flowers carefully, knowing Kurt understands the significance of each. It's hard to find good roses now that it's December and winter has finally hit, but Blaine thinks he's done pretty well from the limited selection the florist had available.

"You ready?" Blaine asks, offering his arm to Kurt. They have dinner reservations for 8 and if they don't start walking soon they'll be late.

Kurt lifts the flowers to his face, inhales deeply, and lowers his hands, "I can't, Blaine," his voice is so quiet, catching on the wind that sweeps through Central Park.

The confusion hits Blaine immediately, Kurt had _planned_ this dinner after all, it's unusual of him to change his mind at such late notice, but it has been known to happen. "That's, er, that's fine. What did you have in mind instead?"

* * *

_New York and Ohio are so far away,_  
He continues writing.

* * *

"No, Blaine. This," He lifts the hand holding the roses and gestures with them, gestures at nothing, everything, "I can't do this."

"What do you…?" Blaine's gaze wanders around the park, looking for an answer of some sort, "Kurt, I don't…I don't understand."

"What were we doing, long distance, thinking we could do it. We can't do long distance. It never works."

"Wait,"

"No. Long distance relationships, they just don't work, Blaine. I can't do this anymore. We need a plane to see each other, we're reliant on airports! Do you know how ridiculous that is? That's not how it's supposed to be."

"I don't…I don't care how it's '_supposed_' to be, Kurt," anger rising to Blaine's voice as he realizes what Kurt's trying to do, "_We_," he gestures between them, "Are fine. Sure, long distance sucks, but I think we're doing okay at it. I'm here, aren't I?"

"It doesn't matter,"

"It doesn't matter?" And now he really is becoming angry, "It doesn't matter that I flew here, that I spent my savings, that I'm spending my school holidays here in New York, for you? That doesn't matter? Then tell me, Kurt, why the hell _am_ I here?"

"I don't know, Blaine, why are you here?"

"Are you really going to ask me that?" Kurt nods his head in reply, waiting for Blaine to answer. "How about, because I love you? Is that answer enough for you, Kurt?"

"I can't do this, Blaine."

"Kurt, it's…" his voice softens, the anger draining from him, "It's just half a year, and then I'll graduate. I'll be here. With you. It'll…things will be easier then. It's only half a year."

"I just don't think I can wait that long, Blaine. It's too hard."

For a long time they stand silently, the wind picking up and rustling the leaves of the trees. They've already missed their reservation though neither cares much for dinner right now anyway.

"Is there," Blaine can't believe he's saying these words, "Is there someone else?"

"What?"

"Is there somebody else? Just tell me, Kurt. I think, after the whole Chandler incident, I could handle it. It wouldn't be that much of a shock."

Kurt takes a visible step back, as if he's been slapped, "No, Blaine. There isn't somebody else," He spits the words back at him. "I never cheated on you. I never would."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just had to ask. I just don't understand why this is happening, why you're doing this to us."

"I should let you go, Blaine. Long distance never works out. It's for the best."

"No, you don't get to decide what's best for us without even consulting me first."

"I need to let you go, Blaine, this hurts too much."

Blaine shakes his head back and forth, ignoring the tears that are slowly coursing down his cheeks, "No, we'll just…take a break or something. We'll talk about this tomorrow, let's just sleep on it."

"Blaine…" They stare at each other, Kurt shakes his head slowly, "I'm breaking up with you."

"But," Blaine stares, dumbfounded. He reaches his arms out, hands clasping on either side of Kurt's face and drags him in for a searing kiss, Kurt's fingers coming up to comb through his hair. "I love you," he whispers against Kurt's lips, willing him to say the words back.

Kurt lets out a broken sob and steps backwards, away from Blaine. "Goodbye, Blaine." He turns on his heel and walks away. At the first rubbish bin he passes, he tosses the bouquet of roses inside, and keeps walking, leaving them there to die.

* * *

His hand shakes, eyes watering as he writes,  
_So I had to let you go._

* * *

He's parked across the road, opposite to Blaine's house. He can see Blaine's car in the driveway and that just makes it harder for him to work up the courage to go and knock on the door. He couldn't sleep last night, not that that's unusual, but it was worse after seeing Blaine for coffee. He spent the entire night tossing and turning and just _needing_ to talk to Blaine, though 4am probably isn't a good time for a serious conversation. By 6 he'd given up on sleep altogether, had jumped out of bed and had begun writing. The letter for Blaine, now sitting on the passenger seat of his car where Blaine used to sit so frequently, was insanely difficult to write. Kurt had hoped initially that it would clear his head and then he could throw the letter out and move on with his life, focus on Thanksgiving and his family again. But instead, writing the letter had made him desperate to see Blaine, desperate to talk to Blaine.

And now, sitting right across the street from Blaine, he's not so sure what he wants.

It's 8.42am, he knows Blaine is home, knows he needs to talk to Blaine. But what he doesn't seem to know is how to get out of his car and walk the short distance to Blaine's front door.

He steels himself, fumbles only twice with the door handle before finally making it out of his car and across the street. He knocks on the door, heart pounding in his chest.

* * *

_Maybe this is wishful thinking…_  
His pen pauses over the paper.

* * *

It's weird, he thinks, knocking on Blaine's front door. He hasn't had to knock in a long time. Blaine had always made it very clear that Kurt could come over whenever he wanted; but Kurt knows that he can't just walk straight inside nowadays. Not anymore.

He waits with bated breath for Blaine to open the door, but several seconds pass, several minutes, and the door remains as solid and as closed as before. He takes a step back away from the door, ready to turn and run. But then he remembers the words in the letter, still clasped tightly in his hand, and steps back towards the door. No more turning, no more running.

He crouches down, presses a swift kiss to the sealed envelope, before pushing the letter under the gap beneath the door, desperately hoping it's Blaine who opens it and not one of his parents.

He stands, preparing to walk away. Of course Blaine didn't open the door to him. Not after everything he's done.

He's halfway down the driveway when he hears the creak of the front door. "Kurt?" He turns around at the sound of his name, at the sound of Blaine's voice, and sees him standing there, clutching the letter and looking confused.

* * *

_I love you, forever._

* * *

"What's this?" Blaine asks, eyes flickering between the envelope in his hand and Kurt.

"Um," Kurt tries not to turn and run, tells himself instead to take several steps back towards Blaine, closing the distance between them.

"Is this for me?" He turns the envelope over in his hands. Kurt nods his head and Blaine slides his thumb underneath the flap to unseal it, pulling out the sheets of paper.

* * *

_Dear Blaine,  
__I'm sorry. I can't even begin to say it enough and I just hope you'll believe me. I'm so sorry for this, all of this, for wrecking what we had. What we had was so amazing. I wish I could say 'have' instead of 'had'._

_I understand why it was so difficult for us to talk when we got coffee; no doubt you remember that night as vividly as I do. It's burned in the back of my mind, and I'm sure it is in yours too. I'm just so glad, so grateful really, that you made time to see me. After everything I've done to you, to us, you still agreed to meet me for coffee. Thank you for that._

_You asked me how I was and, of course, I replied that I was "fine", but I'm afraid I wasn't honest with you, Blaine, but I'm determined to be more honest (completely honest) from now on. I'm not fine, I'm so far from it. I can barely breathe because my heart aches so much, seeing you again was like having the wound break back open. I wasn't prepared for that. I haven't been sleeping well lately, maybe you noticed but not even my rigorous skin-care routine could hide the bags under my eyes that have developed since December._

_Well, one of us had to mention December sooner or later, right?_

_It's like my mind is stuck on repeat, playing that one moment over and over; me leaving. It's like some kind of fucking self-inflicted torture. What was that line from RENT? _

_Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor of memory when single frames  
from one magic night forever flicker in close up on the 3D IMAX of my mind?_

_Except the frames I'm stuck viewing aren't from a magical night at all. God, we had so many magical nights together, Blaine, so many wonderful moments, and all I can focus on is my idiocy in leaving. Leaving you, leaving all of that behind._

_I miss you, Blaine. I miss your tanned skin, your sweet smile, I miss how you would hum songs under your breath. I miss you, I miss what we had. I'm so very sorry that I wrecked it._

_God, and things really were wonderful, weren't they, Blaine? We were the lucky ones, we had it good. You're so amazing Blaine, you always have been. That's why I fell in love with you. I broke down in tears the day we met and you were there for me, you hugged me and told me everything would be fine, told me to have Courage. I haven't forgotten. But what kind of a boy would reach out to a stranger (who had been spying no less!) who just cries all the time, I wasn't exactly the best company those first few times we spoke. You noticed me; you were the first person in a long time who truly noticed me. I was already madly in love with you by Sectionals that year… That's never faded, not once._

_You know how hard it is for me to apologise, I've never been terribly good at it, but I'm trying here. This is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night. Sorry for the silence and the hurt that followed. I only hope you can begin to forgive me, though I know it won't be an easy feat. I fucked up. Everybody told me so. But I felt like I __had_ _to do it. It was stupid of me to think like that, but New York and Ohio are so far away. I barely survived those few months away from you, Blaine. It was awful having you so far away. And I felt horrible, feeling like I was pressuring you into joining me here. I didn't want to be like Rachel, God love her, when she gave Finn the ultimatum; New York or me. I didn't want to do that, not to you, you meant far too much to me. You __mean__ too much to me. So I had to let you go._

_I noticed how you cringed when I said those words at the supermarket the other day. Again, I'm sorry. I don't think I'll ever be able to say it enough but I'm sorry for making you hurt so much. I could see that you're hurting Blaine, still hurting. It's been almost a year. I hoped you'd be able to move on and find someone better for you. And I know what you would've said if I'd told you those words when we broke up, that I'm perfect for you. God, I miss hearing you say that. _

_I'm sorry I didn't call for your birthday, it was just too hard. I changed my cell number, you know that now. I deleted your number as well, it was too big a temptation, wanting to call you all the time and take back those horrible words I said. It was much harder trying to delete your number from my mind, having it memorised certainly didn't make things any easier. I'm still sorry I didn't call though. I should have called, there are so many things I should have done._

_You have so much love to give, Blaine. And you gave it all to me, gave me everything. And I turned away and said 'goodbye'; I shouldn't have done that. Ever._

_Maybe this is wishful thinking… Probably just mindless dreaming. But, if we loved again (and I know that's a big 'if'), I swear I'd love you right. I __promise__ I would. I'd spend forever trying to make this big mistake up to you, trying to fix things. I'd go right back to December, I'd turn and face you, I'd make things right. I'd go back to December and change my own mind. I'd go back in time and change it, take away all the hurt, I hate to see you hurting like this, baby, especially knowing I caused it, but I can't. I just hope, probably foolishly, that we can somehow move forward from here. That we can fix things, that __I__ can fix things. I know this is entirely my fault, but if you'll let me, I'll do everything I can to fix this mess._

_I miss you, Blaine, I need you. New York is such a big, empty city without you. Everything is empty without you. I promise I'll fix this if you just let me. Though I understand if you can't let me in again. If getting coffee with you showed me anything it's that your guards are up. You don't trust me anymore and I understand why. I'm hoping I can change that again, though._

_I love you, forever,_

_Your Kurt_

* * *

Kurt knows as soon as Blaine's finished reading; his eyes stop skimming across the page, the hand clutching the letter drops slightly, though his fingers tighten against the paper, causing them to crinkle and bend.

"Blaine," His voice is quiet, so quiet, and he honestly doesn't know how to end the sentence but just knows he should be speaking. Blaine looks up at him, eyes red and glassy, and Kurt feels as if he's just been stabbed straight in the heart. "Blaine, I-"

"No." He shakes his head, sucking his lips in between his teeth as if he's trying to stop himself from saying anything more. He reaches his free hand up, running it over his hair as the first tear spills over and slides down his cheek.

Blaine lets out a huff of air, a humourless laugh, looking down at the letter in his hand and Kurt sees two more tears fall. He shakes his head once more, quickly, before stepping backwards and closing the front door in Kurt's face without another word.

The click of the front door closing feels like the end; not only the literal but the metaphorical closing door to their relationship. Kurt feels like dropping down on Blaine's front steps and sobbing. But even the tears won't come. He feels frozen from inside out and has to mentally order his feet to actually step away from Blaine's house and carry him back to his car.

And he does make it to his car this time, reaching his door but failing to find the energy to open it and climb inside. Instead he rests his arm high up against the door and leans his forehead on it, letting out an anguished sob. Still, he doesn't shed a tear.

His mind is circling, thoughts completely irrational as he attempts to decide whether or not writing the letter was a good idea. Or rather, whether giving it to Blaine was a good idea. Whether coffee with Blaine yesterday was a good idea. Whether walking down that particular aisle at that particular supermarket on that particular day was a good idea. Whether breaking up with Blaine last December was a good idea. And that one he actually knows the answer to.

He misses the sound of the door opening again, but not the sound of hurried footsteps down the path, and certainly doesn't miss the sound of Blaine's voice. "Kurt, what the f-", Kurt turns around and Blaine brandishes the letter at him, "What the hell _is _this?"

He doesn't know how to answer. How is he supposed to answer that? It's a letter. It's an apology. Hadn't he said so in writing? It's his heart on a platter, in the metaphorical sense. But Blaine's looking at him and waiting for an answer and Kurt thinks that maybe he should have just let the sleeping dog lie and not written the damn apology letter because clearly this wasn't working out at all. Not that he had any hopes that this would actually work out positively.

"It's-" He doesn't know what to say, but Blaine doesn't let him speak, suddenly lunging at his lips and kissing him breathless. The fingers of one hand tangle in his hair, the others tighten against his shirt, crushing the pages between them, strong arms move to wrap around Kurt's back and pull him flush to Blaine's body. And now Kurt is crying, the tears falling down his cheeks at an alarmingly quick pace. The kiss itself feels as powerful as the last one they'd shared, and when Blaine pulls away again Kurt lets out a sob just like last time. Though this time instead of turning on his heel and leaving Blaine forever, he lifts his arms and wraps them around the back of Blaine's neck, pulling him in for another kiss, choking out "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, baby," with every breath of air.

"What the-" Blaine pulls back, stepping away from Kurt though keeping his hands clutching at his hips; the letter crumpled in one, the other fisted in the material of Kurt's shirt. "What the fuck, Kurt?"

"I'm sorry, I just, I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he says the word breathily, "I got that."

Kurt drags him in for another kiss, unable to believe he's actually getting the chance to kiss Blaine again, "I thought…I thought you hated me."

"Kurt," Blaine leans his head against Kurt's, "You frustrate me, you confuse me, you drive me freaking insane; but I could never, ever hate you. I could no more hate you than I could stop loving you."

"You…you still love me?"

"I still love you." And Kurt's missed his echoing replies more than he can possibly explain. "Of course I do."

"God, I love you so much, Blaine." He nudges his nose against Blaine's, kissing just the side of his mouth, and then locking their lips together. And if he were able to think clearly at all while being kissed by Blaine, he'd be amazed at how well their bodies seem to remember the exact feel of the move and slide of their lips against one another when they kiss. But kissing Blaine has always kind of left Kurt breathless, and oxygen is kind of imperative to his ability to think with clarity. Though giving up oxygen is a sacrifice Kurt thinks he just might be willing to make if it means he gets to kiss Blaine forever.

When Blaine pulls back once more, he rest his head against Kurt's but looks away, staring down at the letter still mashed between his hand and Kurt's hip. "You said you were never saying goodbye." His voice sounds broken, young and quiet and full of hurt that Kurt knows he'll spend forever trying to kiss away, if it'll help.

"Never again. I'll never let you go."

They're silent as they rest their foreheads together. Blaine lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, "What if," he sniffles, "What if you're Rose and I'm Jack and there's only enough room on the floating door for one of us?"

"Blaine," Kurt laughs too, pressing his lips to Blaine's swiftly, "You complete idiot." He kisses him again, breath coming out ragged and shallow when he pulls away. "Not even then. I'd rather sink with you, Jack."

"So optimistic," He responds sarcastically, "I was hoping we'd both survive the sinking."

"Well we're not on a sinking ship so don't even worry about that."

* * *

And things are by no means fixed. They still have to talk and sort out their issues, and December will be brought up several times, tears will be shed and promises will be made. Blaine will have to dig up the application for Tisch School Of Arts that he'd had half completed by this time last year, and they'll have to relearn each other because, as they've both realised, a lot can change in a year. But Kurt's grateful that he's getting this chance, grateful that some things never change, like cinnamon spiced coffee and the way two pairs of lips can meld together so perfectly. And he thinks that maybe it's true that you don't really appreciate what you've got until you've walked away from him on a cold December night. Or perhaps that absence simply makes the heart grow fonder. Either way, he doesn't plan on ever repeating the experience.

* * *

And this time it's Blaine who asks the question, with Kurt echoing the answer back to him.

"You'll never let me go?"

"I'll never let you go."


End file.
